Tasting the Pretty Poison
by Nara Merald
Summary: They never believed her, trusted her… and it was their fault she was dead.There is a place for children who need to get better. They play games there, lots of different games. Briarwood is the pretty poison. There is no cure for Briarwood.


**Tasting the Pretty Poison**

**Summary: **They never believed her, trusted her… and it was their fault she was dead.There is a place for children who need to get better. They play games there, lots of different games. Briarwood is the pretty poison. There is no cure for Briarwood

**Disclaimers: **I don't own BJT, Anne does... Warnings for angst and character death. This is part of my 'Pretty Poison' Series about Briarwood, so far including Tasting, Ghosts and Bruised, which can be found with my other stories.

_I wrote this for Erkith… Happy Birthday :)_

**Tasting the Pretty Poison**

Breathe. Breathe.

_.:Jaenelle!:._

A wave of furious rage envelops her mind. A little deeper is panic and disgust that she cannot hide from Jaenelle. Rose's face never betrayed her, not even when new girl ate Dannie's leg. But Jaenelle can feel Rose, and Rose is more frightened and disgusted than she's ever felt her, and it makes Jaenelle frightened. _Helpless._

Jaenelle isn't wearing the jewels, can't wear the jewels and though she can share strength and support with Lucivar, Daemon and Saetan, Rose is too light, and the family at the table would feel her.

It is raining, over the Angelline residence and in Briarwood. The storm clouds are ominous, and make Jaenelle feel small, because she can't help thinking they're a sign of bad luck.

.:_Hold on. If you can hold on til after lunch…_ :. Jaenelle replies pressed, already thinking of ways she can leave.

"May I be excused?" Jaenelle asks quietly. Daemon isn't dining with them today, so there's nothing to distract Leland and Alexandra. Bobby isn't even there, but she knows exactly where he is.

"No Jaenelle, we will sit and eat as a family." Alexandra orders. Phillip tenses, and Leland lets out a familiar nervous laugh. Wilhelmina shoots Jaenelle an anxious look, begging her not to make another scene.

**A hairline crack glides down the side of the Chalice.**

Lunch went on and Jaenelle ate mechanically, forcing food down a throat which threatened to close.

.:_I WON'T SUBMIT!:._ Rose screamed in Jaenelle's head.

.:_Rose? Rose?!:._

_.:I'm sorry Jaenelle… can't hold-:._ Rose disappeared and Jaenelle's silver fork clattered loudly on the table when it fell from her hand. Swallowing and realising all eyes were on her, she blinked back tears and apologised calmly to Alexandra. Wilhelmina breathed a sigh of relief. Numbly, Jaenelle ate until the others finished. She did not seek out Daemon or Wilhelmina but instead sat in the library with an etiquette book Leland had given her as a birthday present. Her eyes traced the pages unseeing. If this posturing and pretending was the way of the Blood, she would be glad when the day of reckoning came for them. As the sky darkened and the maids put her to bed, she slipped out of the window easily, descending in the air as if the spiral staircase was tangible. She walked to the grove in silence to wait for Chaillot to sleep.

It was dark, pitch black, as she dropped off of the winds. Walking calmly enough at first, a strange lucid horror overtook her and she was running in panic. As she drew closer, she slowed, choking on her denial as the moonlight revealed the body of a young dark haired girl on the ground. Her limbs lay in unnatural positions as if she'd fallen oddly and not moved again. The girl's throat had been slit; her limp hands covered in blood as if she had reached for her own throat in horror, but could not save herself. The blonde girl had seen a girl murdered in front of her eyes by the stroke of a knife to the jugular before, and knew death was almost instantaneous.

The blonde girl shuddered, her whole fragile body wracked with withheld sobbing as her eyes looked over the body. A sign to her left, shiny and expensive, proclaimed she was at the facility called Briarwood, run by a team of healers lead by Dr. Carvay. Trembling in fury, the girl ran to it, beating her fists upon it.

"Rose!" She cried harshly, injuring her fists more than the sign. Sobbing, she gave up and slid down it fingering the seeds in her pocket.

_WitchBlood_.

A tear rolled down her cheek. They'd said they loved her, but it was her fault Rose had died. All of the other times they didn't believe her, and she'd known that they wouldn't believe her now. But it was Rose's life! Each time it happened Uncle Bobby would smile condescendingly at her, Leland would break down and Wilhelmina would desperately try and distract them all. Alexandra's lips would press into their familiar thin line, Phillip would have a look of ill-disguised concern and she would have heard the familiar stressed phone call. But Bobby wasn't there today, too busy with Rose and the lollipop. Jaenelle's lips curled into a snarl.

She wasn't sick! She didn't make up stories… Rose, Myrol, Dannie… Crawling on all fours hysterically, she reached the body. "…I'm sorry Rose, I'm sorry…" and hugged the corpse, laying her head on it's chest and crying her heart out. After a while the sobs calmed, and the girl sat up again.

"You can do it Rose, I'm waiting." She said softly, but coldly. A thin layer of ice spread over the ground, crackling the grass slightly. The girl shivered but looked unmovable as she moved to Rose's head, and began to dig a hole, deep, so that the roots would have time to blossom and grow and no matter how many times they tried to pull out the flower, it would just grow back… as a Reminder.

The ground was hardly ideal, rocks littered the soil, scratching her hands as she dug, heedless of the cold, heedless of the pain, and heedless that her beautifully expensive doll like dress was now ragged and muddy. Nothing mattered because she knew Carvay would come for her again, and she'd be locked away here soon enough.

Her emotions had frozen over, like the descent to the depth of her jewels, and she had no mercy left in her, not tonight… not with Rose lying broken on the ground like cheap jewellery. Another one of Briarwood's decorations. If she saw one of the Uncles, she'd kill him… but not with a knife, and not cleanly and painlessly. The killing rage lurked within the previously harmless Summer Sky eyes. The eyes of an adult witch pushed too far… and then beneath that layer, the eyes of Witch… implacable.

Bobby had wanted Rose to lick the lollipop. The time would come for him to be the one to taste the pretty poison, but not soon enough. Witch opened her mind, and felt for the threads of the spells she'd created with the black. Only she could see it hanging over Briarwood like an ominous spider, waiting for Briarwood's Uncles. The Black strands were like cobwebs, ready to tighten and crush, linked to each and every Uncle, like a delicate noose around their necks. Each day strengthened them until the web was woken and ready to hunt, and hunt it would, the Uncles blithely unaware until they felt its cold bite. With a flicker of distaste she queried the spell a moment.

_To each will get what they gave_.

Alerted by a sound behind her, Witch turned to face the Demon Dead Rose.

"I'm sorry." Witch said quietly. Rose smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant smile.

"They will be."


End file.
